


Half-Baked

by KyloTrashForever



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Counter Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Food Porn, Kitchen Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex and Chocolate, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:10:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: How could she have missed that her fiancé was anti-sugar? What will he offer their kids for celebratory outings one day—wheatgrass smoothies?Rey shudders at the thought, and now she’s staring at the ingredients for her cookies with something else in mind.Doesn’t like sweets?We’ll see about that.In which Ben claims he doesn’t like sweets and Rey thinks she can convince him otherwise.





	Half-Baked

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write! Thank you so much to sweet Taz for letting me! ❤️🍪

* * *

 

“Look, I just don’t really care for them.”

Rey wrinkles her nose. “Okay, but _how?_ You can’t live your life on steamed broccoli and kale chips.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “I eat more than that.”

“Do you?” She huffs out a breath. “Honestly, I’m not so sure. I’m rethinking our entire relationship right now.”

“You _knew_ I didn’t like sweets when you took that ring— you can’t back out two months before the wedding.”

She laughs then, throwing her arms up. “I thought maybe you just didn’t eat them often… but _never?_ How can I marry a man who doesn’t like cookies?”

His lips curl into a grin then, and he closes the distance between them as he presses her into the counter. “I bet I could find a few reasons to make it worth your while.”

“Mm.” She lets her arms thread around his neck. “I mean you can try— but I’ll still be thinking about how you said you don’t like cookies after.”

He lets his mouth ghost along her throat then, laughing softly. “We’ll see.”

* * *

Rey pulls ingredients down from the cabinets, thinking back to that dark day in their kitchen last week when Ben had dropped the _no, I don’t really like sweets_ bomb on her.

Rey is not one to turn down a green food, (then again, Rey is not one to turn down _any_ type of food) but she couldn’t live without the occasional (okay, maybe more than) sweet treat. She keeps candy in her _nightstand_ for Christ’s sake. How could she have missed that her fiancé was anti-sugar?

What will he offer their kids for celebratory outings one day— _wheatgrass smoothies?_

She shudders at the thought.

This simply will not do.

She’d signed up for the rec center’s annual bake sale as a favor to Maz. The center is trying to raise money for repairs, and seeing as Rey spent many a day there in her childhood during foster care— she was more than happy to contribute.

Now she’s staring at the ingredients for her cookies with something else in mind.

Doesn’t like sweets?

We’ll see about that.

* * *

She’d waited for him to come home from work to start.

He’s sitting in their living room just off the kitchen, settled on their couch with a beer at his lips, and Rey bides her time, knowing she has to get this _just_ right.

She strolls out of their bedroom casually, not looking at him as she brushes past the couch towards the kitchen. She feels his eyes on her when she walks by, more than likely lingering at the _fair share_ of leg she’s showing in nothing but one of his white t-shirts.

Ben has always been a bit of a mess for her legs, and Rey has always been one to play her strengths.

She moves through the kitchen like nothing is amiss, humming softly to herself as she begins to sort the ingredients laid out on the counter methodically.

She places the two bowls on opposite sides of the counter, one for flours and one for her sugars, reaching into the drawers for the various measuring cups she’ll need.

She knows he’s still watching her, knows he has noticed by now that at least from the waist up— she’s wearing nothing underneath this t-shirt.

She taps her chin as if thinking, staring down at the counter for only a second before turning to the cabinets behind her in search of the mixer. She reaches up on her tiptoes to grab for it on the top shelf, (where she may or may not have placed it earlier) her shirt riding up as she imagines Ben is met with a flash of pink lace on her ass.

“Rey,” he calls finally. “What are you doing?”

She turns, giving him an innocent expression with the mixer in her hand. “Hm? What do you mean?”

He frowns, eyes still lingering below the hem of her t-shirt and shaking his head. He clears his throat. “Nothing.”

She shrugs. “Okay, then.”

She goes back to her task, sifting the flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon into a bowl before moving to the other to mix the sugars, pudding mix, crisco and eggs. She wonders if Ben is watching her still, but she doesn’t dare look up yet.

Even if there is no reason to lick her finger just now.

She spares a glance while she’s mixing, the ingredients thickening before she begins to slowly add her flour mixture with small cupfuls. Ben isn’t looking at her now, and that just won’t do.

She opens the bag of chips next, dumping them into the dough to fold them in and she pops an errant one into her mouth, moaning softly.

A quick glance says he is _definitely_ looking at her now.

She places another chocolate chip on her tongue, looking back at him curiously. “Something wrong?”

She doesn’t miss the way he’s staring at her mouth as she licks a bit of stray sweetness away from her lower lip, nor does she miss the way his throat bobs with the effort of his swallow.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh?” She cocks her head to the side. “What am I doing?”

His jaw works a little as he gazes back at her. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Maybe.” She grins, opening a drawer below her to pluck a spoon from inside. She scoops a bit of dough from the bowl that is now perfectly mixed, popping it into her mouth to lap it up with her tongue. “Is it working?”

He purses his lips. “No.”

“It isn’t?” She grabs another spoonful—this batch will definitely not be making it to the bake sale but she can only hope it ends up being for a worthy cause— licking it away even slower this time.

Ben just shakes his head, but she doesn’t miss the slight flush of his cheeks. She walks around the counter, making slow steps towards him at the couch. His grip on the amber bottle is incredibly tight now, and she leans over to press her lips to his, licking at his lower lip as he opens for her. She lets her tongue press inside, her hand reaching to cup the back of his head as she deepens the kiss.

It is only when he groans softly that she breaks away, licking at her lips and shrugging. “Maybe not. Oh well.”

She doesn’t look back as she strides back into the kitchen, beginning to plop little bits of dough onto the cookie sheet in neat little rows. This is the final trick she has up her sleeve, and if _this_ doesn’t work— she fears she is doomed to a life of nothing but quinoa and celery _sans_ peanut butter.

Her poor, poor future children.

Picking up the baking sheet, she crosses the kitchen to the waiting oven she’s preheated, knowing full well that it is _directly_ in Ben’s line of sight. She gathers Ben has picked up on this as well, too. She opens the door, leaning _far more_ than necessary as she slides the sheet inside, knowing her lacy underwear and the entire expanse of her ass is on full display now.

She _may_ or may not linger for a few extra seconds as she makes sure the sheet is placed _just right._

She barely has the door closed and the timer set when she feels him step behind her. She turns, grinning up at him as he pushes her into the adjacent counter to cage her against it.

“You’re being a tease.”

“Possibly.” She smiles sweetly. “Is it working?”

“I don’t know,” he grits out. He presses his hips against hers, his cock straining against the denim and grinding into her center. “You tell me.”

She bites back her grin, peeking up at him through her lashes. “It was the cookie dough, wasn’t it.”

His lips are on her then, his hands at her thighs as he hoists her onto the counter to sit. His fingers find her hair then, gripping at the loose tendrils as he licks into her mouth, sucking at her tongue and groaning as she reciprocates eagerly.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmurs.

“Mm,” she hums. “And you don’t like sweets.”

He kisses her again slowly, laving his tongue over hers before withdrawing. “I definitely like that.”

“See,” she croons. “You just needed a little motivation.”

“You know.” He nips at her bottom lip, and she whimpers softly. “There is _one_ sweet thing I’ve always enjoyed.”

She doesn’t even have time to ask him for clarification before his hands are snaking under her t-shirt to tug at her underwear, wrenching them down her thighs to spread them wide.

She watches as he sinks to his knees, pushing the too-large shirt to bunch at her waist and tugging her to the edge of the counter. She can feel the warmth of his breath against her bare cunt, and the look he gives her from between her thighs is _anything_ but sweet.

He parts her folds with a heavy press of his tongue, licking a slow stripe up the seam of her. He never tears his eyes away as he repeats the motion— steady, _torturously slow_ drags through her folds that have her whimpering.

“ _Now_ who’s teasing?”

“It’s only fair.” He lets his tongue press at her entrance, sliding it upwards to circle her clit just as slowly. “Seeing as that’s what you’ve been doing.”

_“Ben.”_

“ _This_ is better than cookies, anyway. Don’t you think?”

He pulls her clit between his lips, sucking softly and pressing at it with his tongue. Her mouth parts with a sharp _ah,_ her fingers tangling in his hair in an attempt to bring him closer.

Her cunt clenches at nothing, her body humming with a need for release, but Ben takes his time, going slower than he’s ever gone and dragging every bit of the experience out.

Every time she feels herself beginning to climb towards an orgasm, Ben devotes his attention elsewhere— nipping at her inner thigh, teasing her entrance with his tongue, lapping up the length of her cunt— it’s _torture._ Between every interlude he returns to her clit to suck softly, building her release deep inside only to deny her, and each time is more intense than the last.

“Ben, _please—_ I need to— _please.”_

“Do you like being teased, Rey?” She feels his teeth graze at her clit lightly, and it causes her to jolt. “Or do you want me to make you come?”

“ _Please—”_ The word morphs into low moan and her thighs tense around his ears and she just needs a _little more—_

_Ding!_

The oven timer goes off, Rey’s head jolting towards it and Ben pulling away and _fuck_ she’d been so close.

“They’ll burn,” she whines breathlessly.

Ben leaves a lingering kiss at her thigh, moving to grab for the oven mitt at the counter and quickly pulling the tray from inside to set it on top of the oven. The cookies look warm and gooey and she can’t even bring herself to care about them because she is still worked up from his teasing.

Ben is still the picture of calm and collected, removing the oven mitt and tossing it aside as peers down at the baking sheet. “They look good at least.”

“They _are_ good,” she assures hoarsely.

“Let’s see.” He dips a finger into the top of one, the still-warm treat giving under his finger and coating it in melted chocolate. He brings that same digit to her lips, painting them before pushing inside to press against her tongue. “Good?”

She nods as her eyes flutter closed, sucking the chocolate from his fingers and humming softly before he pulls them away. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, staring down at hers that are coated with chocolate, his eyes wide and dark. “Let me see.”

He leans in, licking away the chocolate and pulling at the soft flesh of her lower lip to suck it between his own, and then his tongue is inside and his hands are on her and there is _nothing_ teasing about this.

He clears away every remnant of the gooey sweetness that coats her lips and tongue, devouring her mouth wholly as his fists at the shirt she wears to tug her closer.

She’s gasping when she breaks away. “Ben, I—”

He pulls her from the counter, her feet hitting the floor as he spins her, and she hears the rustling of his jeans as he undoes the button and zipper to push them down his thighs. The warm weight of his cock against her ass makes her squirm, hard and ready and all she can think about is having him inside her.

“Are we done teasing?” He nips at her shoulder through the thin cotton. “Do _you_ want a treat?”

“ _Yes,”_ she pleads. “No more teasing.”

She feels his cock slip between her legs, his length pushing through her folds to slide back-and-forth, and she leans back into him to silently beg him to press inside. When he does— the thick head nudging at her entrance to slip inside— she lets her head fall forward as she grips the counter, and she can’t help the groan that escapes her when he fills her.

He doesn’t waste time, setting a steady pace that is brutal— _dizzying,_ even— her body jolting roughly with every thrust, and she loudly begs for more. His lips are at her ear— filthy words of praise that are _anything but sweet,_ and she eats them up like a sweet treat as he drives into her.

She forgets in this moment what her original purpose was— too caught up in the thickness of his cock as it strokes into her— making a mess of her and the kitchen and she can’t find it in her to care.

She trembles as she comes, quaking around his cock even as he pounds into her warmth, his thrusts becoming messy and erratic and she knows he is _right there with her._

He is loud when he follows after, always so _loud,_ her Ben— but his garbled sounds and filthy words set her on fire and she enjoys every single one. She feels slick warmth gushing inside, filling her to the point of overflowing even as she feels it trickle down her thighs.

He leans over her, struggling for breath as his lips move over her throat, pressing quiet words into her skin before he finally slips out of her. He turns her to face him, cupping her jaw in his hands and pulling her in for a kiss and she closes her eyes as his lips press sweetly to hers.

“You should bake more often,” he laughs quietly.

“Just _think_ of all the things I could force you to try.”

“Well… this is the sure fire way to do it.”

“So what’s the verdict on the cookies?”

He makes a face as if he’s considering, turning back to the baking sheet before giving another dip of his fingers into the mangled cookie. He brings the coated finger to his mouth, sucking the chocolate from the thick digit and humming.

“Well.” He grins wickedly. “Not as sweet as you— but they’ll do.”

* * *

Rey stayed up half the night prior making fresh batches of cookies— her initial batch having been sacrificed to the seduction of her fiancé in an attempt to sway him to the sweet side, and she isn’t even sorry.

She is helping Maz set up the tables now, placing various baked goods over the tops and laying out price sheets, and she spots her fiancé across the way unloading chairs. She bites back a grin as she relented the night before, Ben proving a distraction, and yet she’s still glad he’d agreed to help.

It is only when he’s finished that he comes strolling over to where she and Maz are sitting, giving Rey a wink before taking in the layout of sweets out over the tables.

“Pretty good spread you guys have,” he remarks. “I bet you do well today.”

Maz guffaws. “Of course we will. Everyone likes sweets.”

Ben and Rey share a look, and she can’t help but blush before she forces her gaze away to focus on the money lockbox instead. Maz points to the basket that contains the little plastic bags of Rey’s cookies then, nodding up at Ben.

“Try one of these if you haven’t.” She gives an appreciative nod. “Rey’s are the best. I think it’s the cinnamon…”

“Ah.” Ben laughs a little. “No thank you, I’m good for now.”

“Oh come on, Solo.” Maz scoffs. “The least you can do is try your fiancé’s cookies. You aren’t too hip for sweets.”

Ben’s grin is positively _wicked_ when he glances at Rey, shaking his head. “Oh, don’t worry.” His eyes crinkle at the corners and Rey _knows_ what he’s thinking and she feels a flush creep up her neck. “I had some of Rey’s cookies last night. They’re delicious.”

Rey bites her lip as she looks down at the price sheet, feeling her blush deepening and willing herself not to look back at him— or maybe she’s just trying to resist dragging him back home.

Either way, she doesn’t think she’ll be having any more problems over Ben’s sweet tooth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! May all your sweet tooths be satisfied.  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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